


I'll Wrap My Scarf Around You

by Rivaira



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hockey, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Coffee, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Singer Jaskier | Dandelion, and geralt about singing, jaskier has no idea about hockey, they're just stupid okay?, with the Amazing Devil songs because I'm a sucker for them
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:08:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29611275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rivaira/pseuds/Rivaira
Summary: "I should've run the moment I saw you in that gear... but I guess my sense of self-preservation has always been lacking," Jaskier said with a smirk as he watched Geralt put said gear into his hockey bag. The white-haired man just grumbled and continued with his task, but Jaskier knew he was smiling."That's the first truth I've ever heard from you," smirking Geralt replied after a while and Jaskier gasped dramatically."Well excuse you, mister!" he exclaimed, continuing right after: "...but we both know you'd be miserable without me," he whispered and watched smugly as Geralt shivered a bit."Hmm, seems like today is should be marked as the international day of bawdy theatrical singers telling the truth," Geralt responded and caught the slightly offended, but cooing singer's waist. Truth it was, indeed.*there's a lot of coffee and hockey because I love those things, all right?*
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Kudos: 15





	1. Of Hating Valdo and Learning New Things

Jaskier woke up to a foggy morning. His flat cold, and the alarm had been ringing for an hour now. He checked the time and sighed when he realised he really couldn't go back to sleep. 

Who would've thought that the life of a musician would include such a busy schedule? ( _Busy_ as in whatever might a relatively lazy person such as Jaskier consider busy).

He got up and immediately went to the kitchen to make coffee. He used to hate its taste but ever since he bought a moka pot, he's gotten to love it and it'd probably replaced his blood by now.

Once he'd gotten his morning cup of coffee, he checked his phone for new e-mails and messages. There were several texts from his friends, some e-mails from the university, just the usual boring stuff, really. He scrolled through the e-mails, until one from his friend (and his self-proclaimed manager in one) Essi caught his eye. He wanted to open it, but at the exact same moment, Essi's photo appeared on the screen, accompanied by _The Blue Pearl_ , one of the few of her songs she published.

"Hey Poppet!" he greeted her once he picked up. "What's up?" he asked and heard her sigh.

"You haven't read the e-mail, have you?" she inquired, her tone revealing she already knew the answer.

"In my defence, I was just getting ready to open it, when you interrupted me, so it's really _your_ fault," he replied cheekily, sure enough were she next to him, she would definitely hit his shoulder.

"Oh, you overgrown baby. Tell me again, just how you did you manage to survive before you met me?" she asked teasingly and quickly continued. "It's from the management of the Kaer Morhen club, they want you to sing the anthem before the match," she said and Jaskier frowned.

"Eh, Kaer Morhen as in the hockey club, right? And why would I sing the anthem?" he asked, profoundly confused.

"Well, I had the same question and apparently it's a hockey thing, that before the first match of the season, there's always someone to sing the anthem. I'll be clear; there's no money in it, but since it's on the front burner, I figured it would be a great way to raise the public awareness of you and your _oh-so-lovely_ voice," she explained eagerly and Jaskier pinched the bridge of his nose.

"It sounds... interesting," he started, "and I'm really thankful for everything you do for me, but I'm not sure whether it's just the thing for me. I mean, I have no idea about hockey whatsoever, do people even like hockey? Would it be worth it?" he heard Essi snort on the other side and frowned again. What was so funny about it?

"Gods, you're hilarious! _Do people even like hockey?_ " she mocked him as she started to laugh. "Jask, you should really get out of that flat of yours sometimes! Everything in Novigrad is buzzing with excitement at the thought of new hockey season approaching! Look, I'm not pushing you into anything, just give it a little thought, alright? I feel like it would be worth it," she finished, waiting for him to hum affirmatively.

"Okay, I could... think about it, thanks, Little Eye, for everything. See you tomorrow?" he replied, the previous tension in his voice gone.

"Yeah, Pris told me they have new wine for degustation at Aretuza, _heavenly good_ , as she generously provided," Essi giggled and then hung up. Jaskier groaned. As much as he loved going out with his friends, the barmaids at Aretuza gave him goosebumps - and not in the good way. The women radiated destructive power and he didn't particularly feel well in their presence.

He drank the remains of his coffee and opened his laptop with the intention to look up anything about the hockey gig. He knew it was the least he could do to repay Essi in some way, although she was brilliant with her words and music, she preferred to stay in the background. She frequently said Jaskier was the show-off and she the brains, even though both of them knew it was nothing more than a joke. 

An article with the title: _Rivia gets hat trick, Kaer Morhen top Ban Ard in the CHL_ shows up on the first place after searching for 'Kaer Morhen hockey club'. Jaskier had no idea what a 'hat trick' is, the only trick with the hat he knew was the magician one with rabbits, but that didn't seem very likely to happen during a hockey game.

After that, another bunch of unknown slang words followed and left Jaskier confused once again. He tried adding 'anthem' to the search, which actually proved helpful since he finally found a video with _fucking Valdo Marx_ singing the Continent anthem before the game. Rage flooded him as he heard Valdo's too narrow voice. _How could they invite such a prick anywhere?!_ Jaskier's hands shook in anger as he reached to stop the recording and took a few deep, calming breaths. Oh gods, how he hated that man. He closed the window with the video but kept searching for other information about that whole hockey thing.

He noticed many of the articles mentioning the name Rivia which intrigued him, he had no idea just how famous some of the players were.

The name, as he got to know, was shared by three brothers, all of them playing for the Kaer Morhen Wolves. Even he could guess that it was a rarity, his opinion being proved as one (slightly tabloid) article said: _Having three talented brothers play in one team is such a rare blessing but can also be a curse. These videos prove just how many times the Rivia boys didn't manage to hold their temper!_ Jaskier wrinkled his nose at the words, he _hated_ tabloid media, he himself had already been their target a few times and he simply couldn't wish anyone such disgusting attention.

(Except that prick Valdo, of course).

There were many more articles about the Rivia brothers' affairs, but he chose not to read those, if only because of his pure disdain for tabloid media and gossip. He played some videos of the best Rivia's goals instead and he got lost in the virtual world. He didn't understand almost anything that was happening in those videos, but every time one of the players scored a goal, he felt a weird wave of satisfaction, as their movements were so graceful and finely calculated.

Suddenly, his phone rang again, and he realised he'd dedicated almost three hours to fucking _hockey_. Fuck.

"Hello, Jaskier here, how can I help you?" he asked when he finally managed to answer the phone. The voice on the other side belonged to the owner of the Skellige bar, Crach Craite. Jaskier'd always suspected he hated him, but never got to know whether that was really the truth or not.

"Hello, _Julian_ ," he said and Jaskier shivered at the way his name fell from Crach's mouth. It was not a good shiver. "It seems my costumers have completely lost their taste in good music and specifically asked for you to perform tonight, you free?" Crach continued and Jaskier beamed. He was always thrilled when people searched for his music, it was the greatest appraisal of his work.

"Tonight sounds great, dear Boar," Jaskier all but sang and heard as Crach sighed with resignation. "Beginning at seven, as usual, are we?" he asked and Crach grunted affirmatively.

"Just come on time, all right?" Crach grumbled and rang off. They didn't have to haggle for the cost; Jaskier's been performing at Skellige for almost a year now and it was one of his steadiest incomes. Crach, as moody as he was, always paid fairly and according to the quality of the performance, which in Jaskier's case was always brilliant, obviously.

Jaskier's fame had been growing ever since his college years. Those were his beginnings, when he would play at the student pubs in the evenings, as a form of earning his living. The customers were always enthusiastic about his music and soon, the requests from pubs and bars came for him to play there. That hasn't changed ever since he graduated - he was requested to perform at least thrice a week at different places.

Once, somebody had recorded him and posted the video on YouTube. From that moment, people have been more aware of his music which resulted in him creating a YouTube channel and starting to put his first album together. All in all, he was a busy and sought-after musician, whose promising career was just in its beginnings.

He reached for his guitar which he kept in the living room and began strumming mindlessly, letting his fingers run across the strings. He felt content and at ease, as he began to play one of his most favourite songs, _Pruning Shears_. He often asked Essi to perform his songs with him, as her voice usually fit the music perfectly. But today, she had plans with her sisters and he didn't want to rip her from that. He could do as good on his own as he did with her, it didn't really matter in terms of quality, it just felt so much more personal when she was there with him.

After another hour of practising his repertoire (not that he had to, it just made him happy to do so), his stomach started rumbling. He put the quitar aside and went to the kitchen in order to cook something quick. He immediately opened the first song YouTube offered him and put his phone on the kitchen island. His hands moved almost mindlessly as he started to prepare his favourite scrambled eggs, humming along with the songs. Only once he was almost finished, another song started playing, and he froze when he heard the annoying voice of _fucking Valdo Marx,_ again. He shook his head and reached for his phone to turn it off.

Once he held it in his hands, he couldn't help but dial Essi. 

_I won't let myself be bested by that self-absorbed prick,_ he thought to himself as he waited impatiently for Essi to pick up. Once she did, he quickly spilled out.

"The hockey gig we talked about in the morning? I take it!" Essi was quiet for a moment and then squeaked in delight.

"I'll call the management of the Wolves. It's gonna be worth it, I promise, Jask. Thanks for accepting it!" she replied, and he felt warmth flood his chest. He won't disappoint her in this. He would sing on that godsdamned hockey match, if only for her.

...and, well, for his hatred of Valdo, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm here with a new fic I never thought I'd write.   
> An image of Geralt (and the rest of the witchers) as a hockey player just started living rent-free in my mind and I just had to do something about it.  
> It's probably gonna be like 3-5 chapter-long, but I'm still not sure, really. (I'm aiming to finish it by the end of March, though)!  
> Anyway, I really hope you liked it and would be very grateful for any comment or Kudos! <3  
> Have a nice day, y'all!  
> ~R.


	2. Of Meeting the Wolves and Watching the Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier wanders through the interiors of the Novigrad Arena and, surprisingly, meets a few of the Wolves.  
> The anthem is sung and game played.

Through the past week, Jaskier had been noticing hockey a lot more than he'd ever done before. The whole Novigrad was buzzing with excitement from the upcoming season in the CHL and people even started wearing black and red scarves with a wolf's head. _Who knew hockey fans wore fucking scarves?!_ Jaskier once thought. He hated not having the knowledge of (presumably) once of the biggest events in the city. That was why he opened his laptop every day, just to check out something about hockey. Now, he wasn't _interested_ in it, no, he just liked to consider himself a person with general knowledge and hockey (of all things) seemed to be a very hot topic in Novigrad. (Again, who _knew_?!).

Aside from his usual gig at Skellige, he'd also been invited to lead a course on songwriting and composing in Oxenfurt, his alma mater. He'd been thrilled, for he loved Oxenfurt dearly. It was a place from which his happiest memories originated, a place where he met his greatest friends. A place where he finally could be himself. His parents didn't really want him to become a musician, but this way, they at least could tell the others he had graduated from a college. They obviously didn't hesitate to comment on his lifestyle and choices in private, but for the public, they were proud (if only a bit strict) parents. Being able to study at a college was actually a way out of his family's life, which he accepted gratefully.

Not many people associated him with the noble Pankratzes, thankfully. He had no intention of listening to the calumnies of having his achievements and career paid for by his family. He didn't, of course. His parents would never spend more than the necessary amount of money on him, the disappointment he was. He knew he was more than capable of making his own name and fame, but still, listening to people saying that hurt. He hated it when people questioned his success, be it family or strangers. He'd been underrated and humiliated his whole childhood and didn't want for it to happen again. Never again.

This was also one of the reasons he agreed to the hockey thing. Tens of thousands of people would watch the game, as he got to know, and what better thing to do with his success than to rub it into his family's faces, right? 

It was ten o'clock and he was just calling Essi, who gave him another pair of information she managed to get about the performance.

"Okay, so, the game begins at four, but you have to get there by three. They'll probably just show you around and maybe even let you rehearse," he took a breath and wanted to tell her he didn't need to rehearse, never did, but she cut him off before he could start. "Yes, I know, I know, you don't need to rehearse, yada, yada, yada. But they want you there, so you'll be there, alright? And the management called today saying we'll get free seats at the game tonight. And before you start to turn it down, it's very impolite to leave after the anthem, so we'll have to stay there," she finished her monologue and Jaskier sighed. He had no intention of watching some hockey game, he actually hated the idea. But how could he refuse to, after what Essi said?

"Do I really have to stay there?" he tried whining and Essi chuckled. He knew there was no point whimpering at her, he just had to have the last word in principle.

"Oh, stop whining you big baby, and try to look dashing instead. But... maybe don't wear anything yellow or blue? They play against Cintran Knights today and their colours are yellow and blue. I recall the management said something about it being rude to wear the opponent's colours," she said, bracing herself for what was sure to come.

"But you know blue is _my_ colour! You can't just forbid me from wearing blue!" Jaskier whined again and heard Essi sigh. He sighed, too, his theatrics were maybe too much today, he should be thanking her for her help, not act so childishly. "Sorry, dear, you're right, I'll wear something different, thank you," he said sheepishly and knew she smiled.

"You realise you look stunning in every colour possible, right? Just wear all black or red and black. You know, to flatter the audience even more," she teased and Jaskier nodded.

"Oh, I already know I'll be the best-looking person at that stadium, dear Poppet!" he said cheekily and then continued seriously: "Thank you for doing this for me, Es, I really appreciate it," he knew she blushed even though he couldn't see her. "So, see you there at four?"

"You old flatterer!" she exclaimed and started laughing. "Yea, I'll be there. Don't mess it up, Buttercup!" she bantered and hung up before he could start playing offended.

Jaskier softly chuckled at her accusation and then sighed. He started to feel nervous about the hockey thing. He was used to performing, but he knew there would be thousands of people in the arena, with thousands of others watching it live. If he messed it up... Not that he would, of course, but his self-consciousness started to gnaw at him slowly.

He made another cup of coffee, drank it and sat down at the piano he had in his apartment. He was flooded with emotions and even though they weren't exactly positive ones, emotions equalled inspiration. He started humming a melody that'd been on his mind for a few days and his fingers immediately found the perfect place on the keys. He kept playing, only stopping once a while to write down the notes he played. After he made himself familiar with the melody and tune, he started thinking about the lyrics.

"...hmm and growing cold...  
da da da da da... hold?" he murmured along with the melody and then stopped playing. Today wasn't a good-word day. He ran one hand through his hair and checked the time. He spent a few hours playing, but still had enough time to get ready and even cook something, so that he wouldn't sing on an empty stomach. He opened the recorder on his phone and played the song once more, just humming and adding a bit of scat here and there, just for fun. He was planning on sending it to Essi later. He kept humming as he cooked his lunch and then went to shower.

Jaskier maybe was a weird person, but he never, _ever_ , sang in the shower. He didn't know why, it seemed like every single person in the world did in fact sing in the shower. But Jaskier didn't. The only sound he ever made in the shower was talking. Be it the arguments he would never have, or just some random nonsense. The point was, he never sang in the shower. When he found out almost every other person did, he was somehow flattered, that he wasn't _basic_. The thing about Jaskier was that he hated being basic almost just as much as he hated Valdo. Jaskier's personality was all about being free, both in the matters of body and mind. So, after that discovery, he made it one of his principals not to sing in the shower.

When he deemed himself clean enough, he put on his bathrobe and started to blow-dry his hair. (Which always took fucking ages). He shaved and started with his skincare routine, which, as he loved to prattle and brag about, made him look " _at least five years younger, Essi!"_. 

Once his hair was dry and taken care for, he started dressing up. His sad gaze lingered on the blue and yellow sections of his closet and a frown started forming on his face, but then he caught a glimpse of red in the back of the hanging bar. He reached for it and, much to his surprise, took out a red shirt made of a chiffon-like fabric, just the tiniest bit see-through. He'd probably had it for such a long time he didn't even remember purchasing it, nor owning it. But it was the perfect thing to wear, actually. Not too formal, more like business-casual and, importantly, making him look very put-together. He also took his black high waisted jeans and tucked the shirt inside. The first two buttons were left undone and sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. He found his favourite pieces of jewellery, including many rings and a bracelet, and shot a glance to the mirror. Oh, but he _was_ a sight to behold.

As he had checked in the map sooner, the arena was relatively close to his apartment, a quick fifteen-minute walk, actually. So, after checking his appearance for the twentieth time, he finally grabbed a black blazer, just in case it would be too cold, and left his flat. The walk itself calmed his nervousness a bit, but the moment he stood in front of the stadium, it came back. He had to take a few deep breaths just to calm himself enough to keep walking.

Some people recognised him as he passed them, but thankfully, none of them approached him. He wasn't sure whether he would be able to keep his good manners if they did.

Essi had actually given him instructions, so he knew he had to enter the stadium through a different door than the spectators. There was a man waiting for him inside, who would lead him to the innards of the arena. He swallowed, forcing it past the bump in his throat.

"Mr. Pankratz?" a man approached him just outside of the arena. Jaskier looked at him; he was dressed in a tux, a pin clipped to the left of his breast, red wolf head in black field. A Kaer Morhen representative, then.

"Please, call me Jaskier," he replied with a smile. The man nodded and gestured for him to follow.

"I'm Jakub Adamczyk, and I'm here to give you a tour through the stadium, if you'll come with me?" Jaskier dipped his head in agreement and the man, Jakub, started explaining the logistics of the stadium. Jaskier tried to pay attention to him, but he didn't really care about sports or management in general. He at least put on his best expression of interest as they wandered through the halls.

"...and here is the locker room of our Wolves," Jakub said as he motioned to one of the doors in the corridor. The door wasn't entirely closed and so, Jaskier got a glimpse of a few half-naked _very hot_ players. He swallowed again, trying to keep the blush from appearing on his cheeks. If Jakub noticed anything, he was polite enough not to mention it, for which Jaskier was thankful.

They passed another few doors, until Jakub stopped again and pointed towards another door. "And you'll be staying here," Jaskier opened it and entered a relatively small room, conveniently resembling dressing rooms of actors. 

Jakub seemed as if he wanted to keep talking, but at the moment, his phone started ringing. He pulled it from the pocket of his tux and cursed. "Shit, sorry, I have to take this. I'll be back in, say, fifteen minutes to take you to the ice, make yourself at home until then," and then left.

Jaskier found himself sitting in the chair, completely and utterly alone, nervousness hanging over him. He started cracking his knuckles and humming under his breath. He sat like that for a while, trying to relax, but it just wasn't working. After five minutes, he finally resigned with a sigh, burying himself deeper into his seat. Then, a different need made itself known. All of the nervousness resulted in an urgent need to go to the restroom, which he recalled was somewhere in the corridor "his" dressing room was. The last thing he wanted was to have to sing while needing to visit the toilet.

He opened the door and intended trying to look for the restroom, when he bumped into someone, said someone being very strong, with a broad chest. The man was just the slightest bit taller, but considering all his muscle, it felt like he was towering over Jaskier. The singer lifted his gaze from the black-red jersey (out of which the hockey gear was peeking), only for his eyes to meet a pair of light-brown ones, almost golden under the right lighting. The man had a gorgeous white-silver mane and a matching beard, even though he could be at most ten years older than Jaskier. There were some minor scars in his face and a forming frown.

"O-oh, sorry there, it seems I'm just too clumsy," he forced a laugh through the bump in his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. The man watched him curiously and then smiled and _fuck_ , he could be the most gorgeous thing Jaskier had ever seen. This time, Jaskier couldn't stop the blush from appearing and bit his lower lip. 

"'s okay," the man said. _Fuck. How can a voice be so sexy?!_ Jaskier thought, completely lost. Then the man - or player, Jaskier assumed - frowned once again. "What're ya doing here?" he asked, almost an accusation. And fuck, Jaskier didn't want to pick up a fight with him. (He had a different physical activity in mind, though).

"I-I'm Jaskier, a singer, I'm supposed to do the anthem thing before the match," Jaskier managed and the man watched him with something unreadable in his eyes.

"Hmm," was his response and then he turned back, probably to leave for the rest of his team. "Good luck," he grumbled over his shoulder and began walking off.

"Oh, thanks, good luck to you, too," Jaskier raised his voice to make sure the man heard him. Even though the man didn't respond, didn't even turn back, he nodded and then walked away through the corridor. Just before he entered the (probably) locker room, Jaskier realised that above the big red nine on his back, there was also a name.

 _Rivia_.

Fuck, he met the (assumingly) most famous person on the stadium tonight and didn't even realise that. He had no idea which one of the three brothers the man was, but he was definitely hoping to meet him again.

* * *

When Jakub came back to him, Jaskier had already returned from the restroom and was sitting on the chair again, lost in his thoughts. It wasn't until Jakub closed the door, that he raised his head and acknowledged his presence.

"Hey, feeling alright?" Jakub asked and waited until the singer nodded. "Great, I'll take you to the ice then, after you," he gestured for Jaskier to follow him and once he did, Jakub locked "his" dressing room.

"Lead the way, then," Jaskier replied with a wink and let Jakub navigate him to the heart of the stadium.

The first thing he noticed was the cold. It felt all wrong since it still was warm enough outside to just walk around without a jacket. The next thing that surprised him was the brightness. Even though not all the lights were on, the way they reflected on the ice created a winter-like sensation in the back of his mind. He knew he probably gaped, but couldn't bring himself to care, since his mind was intrigued by the chilly place.

He heard a soft chuckle and then someone - Jakub - tapped him on the shoulder.

"Jaskier, this is Piotr, our soundman. He'll tell you how's it gonna go and then you'll be able to rehearse once or twice before it all begins. I'll leave you two to it, but expect me to come back once you're finished," he gave a smile and then left again.

"Okay, so, you're gonna have the mic with the green sticker. Yea, that one," Piotr confirmed as Jaskier reached for said microphone. Jaskier observed the soundman. He was either in late thirties or just few years above forty, with well-kept beard and deep brown eyes. "So, once it begins, the teams will line up and you're gonna be introduced. After that, I'll give ya a nod and you can start, alright?" Piotr was exactly like Jaskier thought he would be - kind of taciturn but hearty at the same time if one just looked carefully. Reading people was his second most valued quality, right after his passion for music.

"Right, erm, and you'll be sitting over there, right?" Jaskier asked and Piotr nodded with a friendly grin.

"Oh, yea, before I forget, there'll be a carpet of some sort for you to stand on, but only before the game. The lads still need to prep the ice now," Jaskier nodded again and took the microphone. He went through the door in the boards and stood on the ice. It was a fairly weird feeling since he'd never stood on ice in dress shoes before. The cold, slightly humid air was a pleasant change from the dry, stuffy ones which were mostly in clubs or pubs he usually performed at.

He took a deep breath and then shot a look at Piotr, who winked at him. There were three other people apart from the soundman near the ice, all of which were eyeing him curiously. He was sure they'd all heard of him at some point in their lives. Novigrad was quite a big city, but there weren't many musicians altogether. And given his regular performances at some of the most frequented dining (or drinking) places, he'd built a name for himself.

He put on a smile and sang a few first notes of the anthem. One of the men, who stood next to an ice resurfacer, took his hat off. The others stopped whatever they were doing and straightened up, looking at him. As the words: " _Gaude Mater Redania_ " slipped past his lips, he realised he suddenly wasn't feeling nervous at all. The people around him were united, if only for a few moments, and it was all thanks to him. He understood that it didn't matter how many people would be watching his performance tonight, it would be all the same. With that, he sang the last few notes and then finished with a small bow of his head. 

He then went to return the microphone to Piotr, who gave him a bright smile and an appreciative nod.

"Great voice," Jaskier jumped as Jakub emerged behind him unexpectedly with a large (but still very heartfelt) grin. Jaskier gasped theatrically and put a hand on his heart.

"Why, you can't be just running around and scaring people to death, Jakub!" he all but exclaimed with a smirk. Piotr and Jakub both laughed at his antics. "My poor heart... warn a fellow when you're sneaking up on them!" he complained quietly, and Jakub gave him a mocking whimper.

"Oh, c'mon, let's get you back to your dressing room before you die of terror," Jakub replied and Piotr barked a laugh. Jaskier ran a hand through his hair and went after Jakub.

They walked back to the innards of the arena in silence, but it was a _good_ silence. It would have lasted all the way until the dressing room, if not for a couple of Wolves bursting from one of the doors.

"Bert, you little shit, I swear to gods, give me my jock back!" one of them yelled as he ran after the other, who was indeed holding a jockstrap and laughed maniacally. Unfortunately, he stumbled in front of Jaskier and Jakub, which resulted in the other Wolf catching him. It appeared that neither of them noticed the pair of them until then, since they were eyeing them bemusedly. Both of them wore a Kaer Morhen jersey, on which there was an A to the left of their chests.

The first one to compose was the one called 'Bert'. He dusted his jersey and lifted his gaze to meet Jakub's, fairly infuriated.

"Sorry Jakub," he mumbled and then his gaze fell on Jaskier. "Oh, who do we have here? Is that our songbird for the evening?" he asked cheekily, turning to his companion. The second player was a bit higher with a very, very broad chest and shoulders. His tough appearance had been disturbed by his head hanging low, as if trying to hide something.

"Lambert, why on earth are you running around like that?! What if you hurt yourself? C'mon now, d'ya want to spend the match as a grocery stick? No? Yea, I don't think so!" Jakub looked half concerned, half annoyed and all terrifying. Lambert shrugged a bit and then apologised. Jakub then turned to Jaskier. "Oh, sorry, I didn't introduce you. These are our forwards, Lambert and Eskel. Boys, this is Jaskier, our, as Lambert so wonderfully put it, songbird for the evening," he said and smirked as Lambert shot him an angry gaze.

"Yea, that's me, nice to meet you," Jaskier chirped just to mock Lambert a bit more and smiled smugly, as the large man started looking a bit embarrassed. The second player, Eskel, however still hadn't raised his head and it appeared he wasn't planning on doing so anytime soon. Lambert nudged him a bit, but Eskel just wordlessly shook his head and turned away. Lambert looked at them apologetically and then went after him. This time, Jaskier was prepared, though, and noticed their numbers right away. Lambert had 8 on his back, while Eskel's number was 10. Above the numbers, there were their surnames, and _fuck_. 

Jaskier had to supress a chaotic laugh when he realised, he'd met all three of the Rivia brothers _on the same day_. 

* * *

The lights beamed and crowd roared as Jaskier's name was announced. He stepped on his mark on the ice and waved slightly at the audience. His best-looking smile was on and he couldn't deny himself a wink to the camera. He watched the two teams, lined up against each other, their helmets off. He knew his gaze lingered on the _palest_ of the Rivia brothers for a bit longer than it should have but couldn't help himself.

Finally, as the crowd calmed a bit, he raised the microphone to his lips, took a deep breath and let the first words of _Gaude Mater Redania_ slip out. He obviously toyed with the notes a bit, having adapted it to suit himself, but the thought of it and its words stayed unchanged. Many of the people's hands flew to their hearts and all of them were at least mouthing the lyrics.

He felt content, nervousness long gone. Standing on the ice, basically in the very heart of the arena, surrounded by so many people, he forgot any reasons he had to feel that way. Locked under so many gazes, having all the attention possible, he was somehow sure he couldn't miss a note if he wanted to. 

He felt more than saw the gazes of certain captain and two alternate captains of the Wolves. When he turned his eyes to them, he knew he wasn't mistaken. All three of them observed him, although he had no idea why. He hadn't noticed Eskel's scars until the end of the anthem. The tall player's hair covering most of it, even when his head was held high. He hadn't read anything about _that_ , but felt terribly sorry for the man, realising how self-conscious he must have felt all the time.

As the anthem ended, the spectators began to cheer once more and he bowed before waving at them again and leaving the ice. The players were clapping - smashing their sticks against the ice. He made his way to Piotr, returned the microphone and then Jakub was at his side.

"That was just great, Jaskier, thanks for that! Oh, you might wanna get to the stands before the match begins. We've made sure you get two in the VIP zone," Jakub winked and led the way again, this time to the stands.

Jaskier thanked him and made sure to maintain some small talk with his "guide". They'd made their way through several corridors and many doors before getting to the VIP stands, where he spotted Essi immediately. Jakub escorted him all the way to his seat, greeted Essi as if he knew her well and then excused himself, for he still had work to do. He hadn't forgotten to pat Jaskier on the shoulder and give him another wink, though.

Jaskier and Essi talked some, but then Jaskier's focus turned to the ice. Now, he wasn't exactly _interested_ in the _game_ , he just wanted to observe the Rivias some more. 

The teams' first lines gathered on the ice and the centers prepared for the bully in the main ring. It was Eskel for the Wolves and a Cintran player by the name Lazlo. The referee threw the puck in and the spectators cheered as the game officially begun.

Eskel won the bully and passed the puck to Lambert immediately. Lambert played the right wing, whilst Geralt, tall and graceful in his movements, took his place on the left wing. The three brothers almost _toyed_ with the Cintrans, passing to each other and quickly making their way into the offensive zone. Eskel zig-zagged among the opponent players and then Geralt clapped his stick against the ice, asking for a pass. Eskel complied, Geralt took a swing and then the Cintran goalie was lying on the ground and the spectators _roared_. One minute into the match, the first goal was scored.

* * *

Jaskier watched the game breathless. He _was_ planning on attending to Essi, but the game, despite being harsh most of the time, was also fucking _graceful_. (And that might've been thanks to the ease with which most of the players skated, or thanks to the certain _someone_ , whose face had been captured on the cube many times that evening).

The Wolves were brilliant. They were perfectly coordinated, and their aim was precise. The goalie, Coën, did wonders in his goal. They scored another five goals, whilst Coën kept a clean tab and got to make a shutout at the end of the game.

The whole game was entertaining in the best way, although Jaskier's favourite moment was when one of the Cintrans crosschecked Eskel and shoved him head-first into the boards. Well, not _the_ moment, more precisely what followed. As the first line had been on ice, _both_ Geralt and Lambert got to said Cintran and made sure he won't do that again. They obviously didn't hurt him beyond repair, only exchanged a lot of heated words, including "fucking pigeon" or "hoser idiot, aren’t ya". They gave him some face wash, but their gloves didn't go off and it was understandable they wanted to defend their teammate, so the refs tolerated it. The Cintran, however, got two and ten and given the way the crowd raged, he probably could be glad it was such a low penalty.

Jaskier absolutely adored the way the brothers cared for each other and had the other's back, no matter what. It made him a bit sad, though, given he had never experienced such signs of sibling love, his siblings being too afraid of showing their affections towards him. As the Cintran was leaving his team's bench, Lambert and Geralt dropped next to the stunned Eskel, making sure he was okay. He was, considering he joined the game a few minutes afterwards.

All in all, Jaskier was quite glad he took the gig. He wasn't even mad for having to spend his evening at the stadium. One look at Essi confirmed she enjoyed it all the same. And as the game was nearing the end, his phone suddenly buzzed, announcing a new text.

 _Hey, the team's gonna celebrate after the game at Skellige. Was wondering if you'd like to come..?_ _  
If yes, take Essi, too and meet us at the side entrance.  
Hope to see ya there,  
JA_

JA... was that Jakub? Probably, yes. He tilted the screen towards Essi, who just shrugged and turned back to the game. She was always up for clubbing and given she was the one in touch with the club for some time, she definitely wouldn't mind joining in. He sighed and then reached for the keyboard.

 _Hey, night at Skellige sounds good. You sure the team won't mind though? Wouldn't want to impose..._ _  
Essi's down anyway, however.  
J._

He didn't wait all that long, but still, in that time, Geralt managed to score another goal, this time a perfectly aimed slap shot. As the lamp behind the Cintran goal lit, Jaskier got another message.

 _Definitely wouldn't impose, when our three stars all but suggested it. Rather intrigued by your voice, probably._ _  
Looking forward to seeing you, then!_

Jaskier frowned, did they really _want_ him there? Well, might as well go there and ask them himself... He quickly typed another message, right as the siren announced the end of the game.

_OK, am convinced. See you, then._

_I've definitely grown mad_ , he thought as they walked down the VIP stands and made their way towards the side entrance of the arena. They were going clubbing with fucking _hockey players_.

Well, the night was surely going to be interesting...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost accidentally gave Lambert the number 88, which is proudly wielded by my country's best NHL player, David Pastrňák, lol.  
> Guess those red-headed men are my hockey stars.  
> Also sorry, I do know quite a lot about hockey, but I'm not good at the terminology in English, which made it challenging. ;)  
> Anyway, hope you liked it!  
> Toss a comment or Kudos, anything really, it'd 100% make my day! <3  
> Have a nice day, y'all! <3  
> ~R.


End file.
